


Seeing Double

by orphan_account



Series: #FairGameWeek2020 [4]
Category: RWBY
Genre: 5+1 Things, Established Relationship, Fair Game Week (RWBY), M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23225803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When you live as far north in Remnant as Clover does, you don't run into that many crows, and certainly not all the way up in Atlas. But after finding out that Qrow can turn into one, Clover starts seeing them more and more regularly. Naturally, he connects the dots and assumes that Qrow is paying him visits in his bird form.Spoiler alert: He's not.(Also known as, five times Clover thought he was talking to his boyfriend, and one time he knew he wasn't.)
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: #FairGameWeek2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666546
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	Seeing Double

**Author's Note:**

> #FairGameWeek2020 - Day 4: Birds
> 
> This was a very last-minute fic, as I ended up scrapping my original idea to write this instead. I ran out of time to finish the whole thing, but I still wanted to post something today, so I decided to break it up into chapters. Hopefully I can get the rest up before the end of the week, though!
> 
> Also, if you saw my initial preview for Day 4 on Tumblr, and were looking forward to my soulmates piece, worry not! I'm still planning on finishing that one and releasing it, too, but most likely not until FGW is over. In the meantime, enjoy the birds and one very oblivious Clover <3

A heavy sigh pushed past Clover’s lips, and he pulled his reading glasses off his face, rubbing his brow with the back of the same hand. He dropped the pen he held in his other hand onto his desk, tossed his glasses down next to it, and leaned back in his chair as far as he thought he could manage without risking it tipping over. Clasping his hands behind his head, Clover stared up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes and tried not to grimace.

He was so sick of paperwork.

Don’t get him wrong, his status as the leader of General Ironwood’s Ace Operatives brought him great pride, but even he had to admit that the more thrilling aspects of his job tended to end at the edge of the battlefield. Beyond that, Clover was left with plenty of work to do behind closed office doors.

At the moment, that mostly meant sifting through mission reports, which always took far longer than it had any right to. Marrow, for one, still had a bad habit of including ludicrous amounts of extraneous details in his reports. On one hand, his dramatic, regaling tales of heroism were like a breath of fresh air when compared to the clinical, minimalistic reports provided by the likes of Vine, but… Clover sighed again. He really didn’t need to know the exact fighting moves Marrow used against one particular Sabyr, no matter how cool they were.

...At least, not always. Every now and then, it would bring a proud smile to his face, but after going through five reports from Marrow in a row, Clover was ready to move through the stack of papers a little more quickly.

But first, a break was in order. Clover picked up the remaining papers, tapping them against his desk a few times to neaten the stack, before placing it in a far corner, and then he dropped his head and arms onto the now-cleared section of his desk. It might not have been posture befitting of a high-ranking Atlesian officer, but it wasn’t like anyone was around to see. Plus, the cool surface of his desk felt soothing against Clover’s cheek.

He could probably take a nap here if he wanted, though Qrow would have his head if he ever found out, the hypocrite. If it was that bad for your neck and back, then why did Clover keep finding Qrow sprawled out on the couch, or laid out across his own desk, too? _Practice what you preach, Qrow._

Of course, Clover _did_ care about taking care of himself—a lesson partially learned after waking up one too many times with a nasty crick in his neck—so he _wouldn’t_ take a nap on his desk, but he’d be lying if he said the thought wasn’t still tempting. He was already here, after all, and the room was so quiet. Then again, that wasn’t proving to be much of an incentive, because it wasn’t the blissful sort of quiet that inspired peace. No, it was an oppressive, lonely silence, the loudest kind of quiet, and one that Clover had been locked in all day long.

He sighed, a glum weight settling over his shoulders and his heart aching with longing—he missed Qrow. Clover hadn’t seen him since yesterday morning, as there had been a rare instance of their mission assignments being different that afternoon, and then today, Qrow had made plans to train with his nieces. Perhaps expecting to spend so much time with him was a somewhat juvenile train of thought, but Clover got to see the other Ace-Ops every day, so he didn’t think it was that much of a stretch to hope for the same with his boyfriend. They worked together, too, after all.

Clover wrapped his arms more snugly around his head, fully enclosing himself in darkness. He inhaled, deep and slow, and planned on resting his eyes for just a few moments when suddenly, the silence of the room was broken.

_Tap, tap. Tap._

Clover lifted his head, squinting at the window in front of his desk. He found himself looking straight into the beady, dark crimson eyes of a crow. Clover blinked, and for a second he didn’t move, too confused by the bird’s sudden appearance and too tired from working all day to process anything, but then his eyes lit up and a grin split across his face.

_Oh. Speak of the devil._

A surprised but pleased thrill ran through Clover and sent a fresh wave of energy to his limbs, making him straighten up in his chair and reach forward to push the window open. The crow shuffled to one side, tipping his head back and forth curiously as Clover held out a hand.

“Hey there, pretty bird,” he crooned. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you until later tonight. Done training with the girls already?”

Clover expected him to hop into his hand, but the crow showed no indication that he intended to move. A beat passed before Clover withdrew his hand, reached down into one of his desk drawers, and produced a green-and-yellow package of sunflower seeds. He tore the corner off, shook a few seeds into his hand, and popped them into his mouth, staring back at the crow blankly before a sudden understanding and apologetic smile tugged at his lips.

“Oh, you’re right, my bad. Guess it would be weird if somebody happened to see a wild crow jump right into my hand, huh?” he said. “I doubt anybody’s looking up here, but that’s probably a safe call.”

A short caw answered him, which he took as a sign that he was on the right track. Clover nodded, half to himself, and pulled another seed out of the bag. As soon as it came within the crow’s line of sight, he gave an interested, excited series of little hops, and Clover’s hand halted in its path, the seed inches from his mouth.

“What, you want one?” he asked, extending the snack towards the bird.

The crow scuttled closer to the open window, head tipping back and forth as he considered the seed. He tapped his beak against it once, twice, three times, before finally picking it out from between Clover’s fingers.

“I thought you said you didn’t like being fed like an actual bird,” Clover commented, raising an eyebrow as the crow braced the seed against his talons to crack the shell open. “It felt demeaning?”

The bird must not have been all that concerned about it, because after he finished the seed, he cawed again and hopped through the window and onto Clover’s desk. He picked his way towards the package in Clover’s hand, seemingly about to dive in with no reservations, until Clover pulled it out of his reach.

“ _Alright_ , no need to be rude,” he chided, shaking a small handful of seeds onto the desk in front of the bird. “Here.”

The crow looked between him and the pile of sunflower seeds before selecting one and starting to work on getting past the shell. As Clover watched, he went through several more seeds, until nothing but scattered shells were left behind.

Clover reached out slowly and smiled when the crow let him gently stroke his back with his finger. “Such a handsome little bird, you know that?”

A few more moments passed like that, with Clover running his finger down the bird’s sleek back feathers. The quiet was already leagues better than before, he thought. Apparently, all it took to improve the room’s depressive atmosphere was having someone to share the space with.

When the crow suddenly fluttered back to the windowsill, Clover jolted slightly in his seat, not expecting the sudden absence. “Leaving already?” he asked, wincing internally at the clear dismay that bled into his tone.

The bird cawed once more, but didn’t otherwise respond before spreading his wings and diving off the windowsill. Clover watched him go with a thoughtful hum, cupping his chin in his hand. “Must’ve forgotten something,” he mused.

The crow dipped out of sight for a moment before rising again, flapping his wings to gain altitude. Then, his wings stilled, and Clover’s shoulders slumped slightly as the bird curved and vanished between buildings, like he’d still held out hope that the crow would return instead of departing. His eyes dropped to the stack of papers still waiting on the corner of his desk, and he swallowed back a disappointed sigh.

Back to work, then.


End file.
